


don't do it again

by BuzzCat



Series: Queen's Greatest Hits [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddles, Drunken Cuddles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 21:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: After the apocalypse, after Crowley goes to Heaven and Aziraphale goes to Hell, there's a certain amount of decompression necessary. Also a lot of drinking is required. After the apocalypse, things are different now.





	don't do it again

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, trying to make his eyes focus on the angel. It appeared that he’d had rather more alcohol than previously intended and as he tried again, he realized that this focusing nonsense was really not worth the effort. It took so much time and by the time he’d managed to focus in, Aziraphale had had the audacity to move in one direction or another and then he had to start all over again. Aziraphale was going on about something Crowley very much wanted to pay attention to, something about a first edition he wanted and how he’d found an angelic loophole to make his competition too distracted to bid at the auction—an action Crowley deeply approved of when he wasn’t trying too hard to focus—and Crowley was becoming more and more frustrated with the inability to focus. Really, it made listening so much more difficult.

With wobbly legs like he hadn’t had since he’d first tried to use his legs, Crowley stood up from the couch on which he’d been reclining. Instantly one leg went ahead of the other, each of his feet turned out slightly as he tried to ascertain the exact tilt of the Earth beneath his feet to compensate for the—really, when had the Earth tilted like this? Perhaps the Antichrist hadn’t put everything back as much as they’d thought he had, if the Earth was still this much off-kilter.

Aziraphale, who was equally inebriated and meandering from the middle to the beginning to the end of his story, looked at Crowley standing up.

“Whu—what are you doing that for?”

“Because paying attention is damnably hard from all the way over there.” Crowley took two steps forward before sitting/collapsing onto the floor beside Aziraphale’s chair. Aziraphale grinned and leaned half out of his chair,

“You’re a drunken silly serpent.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Crowley said, none of the bite he’d intended apparent in his tone. Any sort of intimidation in the word was immediately erased as he leaned his entire torso against Aziraphale’s leg, resting his cheek against the angel’s knee.

“What d’you think you’re doing all the way down there?”

“I’m stealing your warmth. Very demonic choice, right there. I’m stealing the warmth of your corporeal form.”

“You’re a reptile in search of the warmest thing in the room.”

“Be that as it may, I think we need to agree that I’m the hottest thing in this room.”

Aziraphale smiled and snickered to himself, “Is that so?”

“Absolutely true. I’m smashingly attractive and it’s time you acknowledged the truth, angel. I’m distractingly pretty.”

“Ah yes, an attraction so strong that I’m the one practically crawling into _your_ lap,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who was slowly worming himself to be sitting between the angel’s legs, soaking up the heat from both sides.

“Shut up, angel.”

Aziraphale leaned forward to kiss Crowley’s forehead, which quickly turned into him smashing his nose into Crowley’s hair as suddenly everything was much closer than it out to be. Aziraphale giggled as he sat there with his nose in Crowley’s hair and Crowley cackled back, even if he wasn’t quite sure what was funny. It felt good to have Aziraphale close, a knee beside each of Crowley’s shoulders and with the angel faceplanting into Crowley’s hair.

Aziraphale said in a slightly muffled voice, “How much product do you put in this hair?”

“Absolutely none, it looks like that due to sheer determination on my part.”

“I haven’t seen hair with this much hairspray since the 1980s.”

“Oh please angel, no one uses hairspray these days. Everyone’s after that, whaddayacallit, hair gel. There it is, gel. Humans use it to make their hair go all spikey.”

“Like yours?”

Crowley leaned forward enough that he could turn around to face Aziraphale, all the better to emphatically make his point. “Yes, only there’s no product in my hair.”

Aziraphale smiled in the way like he knew Crowley was lying. Crowley reached up and patted at the top of Aziraphale’s head, who was still leaned down slightly. The angel’s hair was spikey under his hands and Crowley grinned.

“Plenty of product in your hair though.”

“There is no such thing! It always looks like this.” Aziraphale listed slightly to the side, half falling out of his chair in an attempt to put his face back into Crowley’s hair.

“Lying and vanity angel. What other multitude of sins have you been tempted into?”

“It isn’t lying, it’s a genuine circumvention of the objective fact in the pursuit of maintaining—”

“Oh, a ‘genuine circumvention of objective fact’,” Crowley laughed as he leaned back again Aziraphale’s leg, now sitting facing the angel’s other knee, “I’ll have to remember that.”

Crowley’s laughter trailed off, leaning so far to the side his nose was smashed against Aziraphale’s knee. Aziraphale, for his part, leaned forward until he could lean his head on Crowley’s, his cheek pillowed in Crowley’s hair. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s knee, nearly poking himself in the eye for his trouble. Aziraphale brought an arm around Crowley’s front, following from one shoulder to the other across Crowley’s clavicle. It felt good to hold each other.

“I thought I lost you,” Crowley said into the silence, so quiet Aziraphale would have missed it if he hadn’t also felt the vibrations of the words in Crowley’s chest. Aziraphale tightened his arm just ever so slightly,

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just,” Crowley’s words were muffled as he leaned in a little closer to Aziraphale’s leg, “don’t do it again.” And maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the apocalypse, but Crowley continued, “Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale tightened everything around Crowley that he could, hugging with his whole body. “You did fine without me for decades. Centuries, back in the beginning.”

Crowley dug sharp nails into Aziraphale’s thigh in response, “And you did fine without me for centuries. What would you do if I just popped off tomorrow, never to return?”

“I’d storm the gates of Hell until they gave you back,” Aziraphale said without pause. It wasn’t a thing that required much thought. If someone took Crowley, he was going to get Crowley back and that was that. Case closed.

“And then you’d tell me not to do it again. So don’t go telling me I ‘did fine’ for however long I did. ‘s different now.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Aziraphale mused. They didn’t have any sort of Head Office anymore. Everything was up to them. No rules. No strongly worded notes. It was just…whatever they wanted to make of it.

At least until the Apocalypse geared up for round two, according to Crowley, but that was long enough off that Aziraphale felt quite comfortable worrying about the here and now.

“I love you, you know.” Crowley said it like a comment on the weather and it took Aziraphale a moment to catch onto exactly what was said. The fingers that had been tracing patterns on Crowley’s shoulder stopped, then started again.

“I love you too.”

“Couldn’t say it, before,” Crowley kept talking like Aziraphale hadn’t said anything at all. “What with all of them,” he made a vaguely swirly gesture at the floor, then at the ceiling. “Couldn’t even say ‘thank you’ without it getting a little dangerous. But now, now I can say it.” Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s pantleg. “Love you, ‘ziraphale.”

“And I love you too,” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s hair again.

Crowley’s response was a drunken snore, pressed against Aziraphale’s leg. Aziraphale didn’t mind, honestly. His corporation would be sore later, and he couldn’t be bothered to sober up so he’d be hungover as well, but he’d trade all of that for being able to sit with Crowley and tell him that he loved him even one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> Queen's Greatest Hits - 'You're My Best Friend'
> 
> Fun fact: this document was originally saved on my computer under 'I wrote this drunk and they are drunk so meh.jpg okay'


End file.
